


The Story

by coeurastronaute



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: F/F, canon manipulating, like no ghosts but a similar story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: What better place to escape life than an English country manor? Dani Clayton, on the run, does her best to stand still for long enough to survive. And she's going to fall in love and it'll be hard.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 14
Kudos: 132





	1. Wolf

I am going to tell a story. 

It is not a marvelous story, nor is it very heroic, nor ghastly, nor mysterious, nor epic by any Ovidian means. It’s much more simply just a real story, perhaps a true story in that it could very much happen, but hasn’t, exactly, to the best of my knowledge. 

I’d rather like to use the word true in the sense that it is universal, innate, honest to very idea that all humanity is capable of experiencing it. It’s true and honest and real, and that might not sound like magic, but if we’re being honest, as most storytellers are known to be, the most magic that can be found is in the moments we can’t tell about-- the moments stricken from pages for being mundane, superfluous from the plot, as if it’s possible to decide so easily what matters, and what doesn’t, as if memory and life are easy enough to foresee to know that a single moment won’t resonate indiscriminately through time and space, etching deep ridges and valleys and canyons into a person’s heart. 

I am going to tell a story that is superfluous from the plot, that’s not very heroic nor ghastly nor mysterious nor epic, and yet one that is full of bravery and ghosts and fear and perseverance. 

No one will tell you what I want to tell you, that it is impossible to truly understand that depth of the pain that life will haphazardly, and often lazily, often with abandon, toss upon you. I need you to understand this, because once you do, you can survive it, and if you survive it, you can fill in the spaces, the in between, the pauses and inhalations and dark, dark, deep and dangerous moments with perhaps a dash of love. 

I am going to tell a story that is true and honest, I am going to trip over my words because I believe in being exact, and perhaps precision is muddled by searching for perfection. I will not tell you what I hope you take from it, for that would defeat the need to finish it, but rather I shall tell you the how. I hope you read this and forget the words, or at least think you have until one day when you understand them more than you do when you read it. 

This tale has no more ghosts than the normal amount. It has no more pain, no more love, no more jealousy, nor anguish, nor magic than the average truth would. This is the warning. 

I am going to tell a story, now. 

* * *

In the summer of her twelfth year, the fair came to town. She remembered it especially because it was not the same as the festivals that came with such regularity it was practically ingrained in her DNA, and much like sparrows, the town just went to work of returning to every year. No, the fair that came to town was different. It was not of them, but for them. 

To be honest, she hadn’t thought of it much since it happened, as time wiped away the newness of it, replacing it with the present and the not-too-distant. 

Later, she would come to remember that as the year before the end of it all. With the perfect hindsight she realized had she just listened, she might have heard it, as an adult she could practically hear the knowledge that something was indeed almost over, the knowledge that hummed, faint and lazy below the noises of the house and the town and the summer evening, the sound Jamie heard when she tossed and turned in the stale, sticky heat of her bed when the breeze was no where to be found. 

Gawky and just becoming aware of her body, she remembered the look she gave herself in the fun house mirrors. The one that stretched her legs, all knees and knobby, the whole way up to her chin. The one that made her hips jut out and when she bent over, that made her chin and nose and ears disproportional, or more so than she already knew them to be. But her little brother didn’t mind at all, laughing at how ridiculous he looked, and then at her until she punched him in the arm, earning a wail of pain. 

With change scrounged and stolen from pockets, she bought their first taste of cotton candy. They snuck onto the rides and rode until they threw up behind the animal tent. For hours and hours and hours, for what felt like days, they roamed the fair in a type of delirium, removed from the ordinary, escaping, as it were. 

But that night was forever tinged a different hue than pink cotton candy and a burning sky where the sun refused to set. It wasn’t even stained black like her father’s hands, nor did it reek of gin or shine on her mother’s breath. 

Alone and indignant, she wandered through the tents and shoddy booths after rinsing her mouth with water from a bucket hanging near the horses. Her brothers were done, tapped out of money and eager to hold onto anything left in their stomachs, but Jamie didn’t want to leave. She never wanted to go home again. 

Forgotten was the looks she gave herself, unable to table the mess of frizz on her head, unable to comprehend the knobby knees and perpetual layer of dirt accumulated on her clothes and cheeks. Forgotten was the music of her brother’s laughter, shrieks, and crying accompanied by the splashing of guts against the compacted dirt mixed with the smell of the animals. Lost to time were those moments unless they were dug for, rooted up and yanked back into tangibility with a great deal of effort. 

What remained of that night was the sheer terror of the tent with the black curtains. The tent on the edge of the fair, that Jamie stumbled upon, as young women stumbled out of, afraid and clutching different bundles of herbs or totems. The tent under the smooth-leafed elm near the broken fence, list solely by candles and a fire that never seemed to grow higher than flickering. 

What Jamie remembered was the large velvet chair and the ancient lace that covered the tables. She could smell, from time to time, the old, moldy dried herbs and flowers that were packed and chopped right there. 

And for some inexplicable reason, she slid across her last five pence piece and waited for the woman to take it. And when she presented her palm, dirty, with moon shaped divots where her fingernails had dug into to find some steel against the appraising eyes, she clenched her jaw, almost defiant, and waited. 

Kindly, the woman smiled, prepared to believe in her own magic for a moment for this brave little girl. While she made her money selling potions to unhappy wives and bundles of herbs and totems for pregnancy and wealth, she refused to use her gifts unless called upon. As inexplicable as it was to Jamie, so too did this woman not understand what made her cradle the small palm in her hand for a tenth of her normal fee. 

Occasionally, as if a slowly moving echo, Jamie would hear her words, or rather bursts of them, phrases really, bouncing back to her from that moment. The older she got, the less she listened enough to hear them, though they kept moving forward toward her at a steady pace. 

With kind eyes, she remembered, a softening of features, the woman across the table tenderly traced the lines in her palm, something Jamie would do from time to time in the years to come, as if she, too, could see something important. 

With a heavy heart, the palm-reader shook her head and kissed Jamie’s palm.  _ I am so sorry, my love. It is not fair _ . 

As much as she wanted to snatch her hand back, Jamie remained still and listened to the entirety of the woman’s words. She allowed her to rub an oil onto them, to write with burnt twigs, tiny symbols on her wrist, to hum a tune and press the coin back into her hand. 

Only much later would Jamie realize it was a kindness, to understand someone’s future and be unable to do anything about it, but to try anyway. 

But the great pain, the great sadness, the great joy, the great everything that the woman promised, Jamie refused to acknowledge ever again. She avoided those echoes and she didn’t stop running. That was how she was going to survive it. 

And as the woman pulled out a knife and sliced a gash in Jamie’s palm, as she muttered the words, as Jamie recoiled in pain, pushing back the chair and frantically looking for the exit, she saw the flames growing higher, she felt the woman corner her as she scuttled across the floor, the dirt and the discarded stems of her herbs searing the cut, leaving a trail of blood there. She fled beneath the tent flap, crawling and tripping over herself until she was home, safely in her room behind a closed door. 

She pressed the gash on her palm to her chest as blood warmed her shirt. 

She never spoke of it again.

For some reason, the fair that came to town the summer she turned twelve came alive in her mind once again, the moment she walked into the kitchen and saw a new face at the table. It was instantaneous, the appearance of that memory. All-encompassing were the noises and smells and terror in her heart. 

In a move that would look, to anyone else, as if she were merely wiping the dirt from her hands, fighting against a stubborn smudge, she ran her thumb along the perfectly straight but raised scar through the middle of her palm. 

But she washed her hands and ignored the momentary echo before sitting down at the table, forgetting it all once again. 

* * *

With a great start, the new au pair’s eyes burst open as she inhaled a shaky breath, as if she’d been holding it for hours and was finally able to defeat whatever had been sitting on her chest, choking her through the night. 

It took a full minute for her sense to come back, for her to understand where she was, to chase away the remnants of the dream that seemed to repeat itself nightly despite her best efforts to escape it. 

Slowly, and with great effort, Dani focused on the sound of the birds just outside her window in the copper beeches that towered alongside the manor. Outside, the waking of the manor and the grounds were becoming regular and soothing, reminding her in their foreignness that she was not home anymore.

It was still early as she climbed out of bed, the thin fabric of her sleeping gown clung to her skin as the heat and her dreams had won against the coolness of the lovely breeze during the night. She stood by the large window with the heavy, ancient glass and peered out onto the lawn as the haze did its best to burn itself away in the rising of the day. 

Three weeks ago, she’d answered the ad that took her out of London and deep into the countryside so that even in an atlas, she was somewhat unsure of how to get back if she were have the need to escape, which was simultaneously terrifying and freeing. 

Even after a full week of waking in a lovely English manor, Dani hadn’t grown too used to the feeling of peace she experienced despite the dreams, as if waking was a better time than sleeping, as if she was living a dream, even, and her dreams were the reality she resigned herself to at night, forever haunted. 

Before the children could wake, Dani washed and dressed, taking a little bit of time every morning to explore the expansive house and grounds. The tragedy of the entire home softened slightly in the beauty it still had, and the hope the children still, despite all else, seemed to cling to against all odds. 

Walking helped clear her head, helped to shed away the old skin, like a snake rubbing against rocks, wiggling out of old skin that it’d outgrown, though she felt it was more forced than that for her, that perhaps the skin she was in wasn’t ready to be shed, and despite her best clawing and scratching and wiggling and rubbing was struggling to pull it off. The past was a sweater that shrunk in the wash and now she couldn’t escape it despite contorting herself into all different positions and yanking. 

So instead, Dani walked in the morning. 

Sometimes she beat Owen, who arrived early with arms full of fresh things to cook for the day. Sometimes she would slip out through the back and he wouldn’t have arrived yet, or she would hear the sound of his tires on the gravel as she turned the corner away from the house. 

A few times, she even beat Hannah, up before the housekeeper had made it to the kitchen, though Dani suspected Hannah rarely slept, and was instead simply elsewhere. 

Only twice had Dani seen the gardener, and with grounds that she was still discovering, she doubted their orbits would often overlap. They’d never formally met, but it seemed only a matter of time with such few options for adult conversation in the manor. 

On her walks, Dani didn’t let her mind wonder too far from the course of action for the day, plotting how to keep two active and unpredictable children busy taking up much of her energy and leaving her exhausted every night in a way that made her hopeful for rest. She thought slowly, taking her time, careful not to let those thoughts drift, steering the ship purposefully. 

More and more, she was allowing herself to relax at the manor, to shirk off some of the guilt and the pain of her previous life that existed just a few months ago. There was a healing that could be found in a departure. There was a kind of reward in giving up. A ghost still followed her, still reminded her. How simple the act of forgetting seemed to be, except when it truly mattered. It baffled her, that she couldn’t remember what Eddie’s particular brand of toothpaste was called, but a random whiff of something close to his cologne strangled her entirely. 

Memory was cruel in that way, stealing away anything good, and leaving the worst of it. Those dark thoughts stained the countertops of her mind, the ring of week-old coffee that refused to be wiped clean and seemed to dismiss all notions of fading. 

The loss was too much to hold, sometimes. He followed her around everywhere despite her departure from the routine 

Maybe if she stayed here, stayed at Bly and got used to it, the familiarity would wipe away the dust and dark. Dani was determined to start new, to begin again. That was the only thing to do after such a thing. 

“Oi, watch where you’re walking!” 

The voice startled the absent au pair as she jumped away from whatever she’d apparently been walking on. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-- I don’t see where I…”

“You almost went knee-deep into my fertilizer, and my Delphiniums have been quite eager for that. I’d hate to make them cross so early in the summer.” 

The lilt of her tone bordered on teasing, but Dani was almost certain there was some honesty there, as if the gardener really did worry about the moods of her plants and of the garden as a whole.She quite liked the pleasing way the gardener’s mouth moved, cocked up at one corner in an oddly shy grin, and she quite liked the pleasing way the hardness of consonants were mulled over and softened. 

In just that moment, Dani realized she was missing some gentleness, and how shocking it was to find it in the sticky heat of the countryside morning. 

“I’m sorry,” Dani offered weakly, looking around and finally seeing the pile of compost and fertilizer waiting to be dispersed throughout the day. “I hadn’t-- I was a little lost there, I guess.” 

“Try not to get too lost, Poppins. We need someone to wrangle those two heathens, and I have my hands full.” 

“Delphiniums are notoriously ornery.” 

They shared a smile and Dani looked over the gardener, mud already appearing on her bare shoulder while her overalls had pockets full and gloves hung near her hip and a patch sewed on one side of a thigh. The messy mop of curls was somewhat tamed in a bandana, and even without make up, her lips seemed impossibly red, like strawberries. 

“If you think they’re bad, you should hear how my peonies have been acting out. Don’t even get me started on my deutzias, who are normally so well-behaved.” 

As she rambled, Dani thought about how nice it was, to hear someone talk about something that they clearly loved. She couldn’t help but smile, which made the gardener slow down and end her explanation earlier than either would have liked. 

“I should let you get back to your walk. You looked like you were going somewhere important, with purpose.”

“Oh, yeah, I was… not really. Just clearing my head.” 

“That can be tricky,” Jamie nodded. 

“Thank you for saving me.” 

“It’s my pleasure. I kind of prowl about all day waiting to save beautiful damsels. It’s part of my charm.” 

“I’d work on the delivery,” Dani teased, taking a few steps back as she realized it was late enough for the manor to be waking. 

“Never been my strong suit,” Jamie shrugged it off. “How was the follow through?” 

“I’d give it a solid B-.”

“Tough marker, you are. I feel for those little ones already.” 

“Practice makes perfect, Ms. Hawthorne.Can’t disappoint those damsels.” 

“I’d never want to do that.” 

With a rakish grin, Jamie nodded a farewell to the au pair, and Dani returned it with a small wave over her shoulder. 

The realization that the gardener had called the au pair beautiful was met simultaneously by both members of the previous conversation. Dani was nearly rounding the corner as she replayed it all in her head, stopping suddenly at that detail while Jamie was furrowed and pulling on her gloves, meeting at the same point. Both looked up at each other when it happened and from across the lawn, looked away quickly. 

As swift as her legs would carry her, Dani retreated into the routine of the day, refusing to think of gardeners or Delphiniums. 

  
  



	2. Paint

June was hot, thick with stagnant heat that refused to rustle or move the tiniest branch of a tree nor leaf on a stem. Hotter than any other summer that she could remember, Jamie toiled daily on her garden and the grounds, lugging water to and fro, nurturing the seedlings in the greenhouse, fretting over the last bits of her bountiful spring bloom and hoping to survive until the first cooling summer storm. It was tough work, all-encompassing work, and she’d learned a little late in her life, how important it was to keep busy. 

Never one to understand or listen to the story beneath the sound, Jamie missed the subtle changes that had undertaken the manor. Too preoccupied and exhausted from her battle with the sun and the dirt and the grounds itself, she hadn’t given another thought to how often her glances looked back toward the house, nor did she think twice about how she migrated around her duties, following the laughter of the children closer than ever before. Unaware of so much of her movements, her head stuck in the dirt and her hands tangled in the safety of the roots, Jamie was somewhat aware of the fact that she had not spoken, at least not directly or alone, with the au pair since their very first conversation. That was done with such purpose that she spent a large portion of the day willing it to both happen and un-happen. 

But things changed in their sullen existence. Homemade decorations littered the stairs and railings while entire science experiments meant trousers rolled up to ankles and wading in the fountain. The curriculum changed with the feeling of the day, and when school was over, the children were happy to take to learning the finer points of housework, turned into games by the crafty au pair who understood how important such things were. Slowly, the gravity fo the grounds shifted from the chaotic mess left behind with such glaring absences. 

Like all features at Bly, Jamie knew that the au pair was a novelty and would soon become not unlike the furniture or the statues. She would become innate to the property, just as Owen and Hannah and herself had, she would be usual and familiar and it would pass, Jamie promised herself, unpracticed in physics as she was. 

But the addition of the au pair had changed the manor, and in part, had changed many of those left within its universe. Where before there was cold and silence in the absence of the parents of the orphaned children, now nights brimmed with laughter and games, where plays were acted out by the entire cast, and learning was hands on, often out of the classroom and with the help of the rest of the staff. There was this community that popped up, a kinship among those who remained, all loosely tied together by the newest addition. 

It was all so sorely needed after the last au pair and the exceeding tragedy that plagued the beautiful land. 

It was hard not to want to be part of the liveliness of the manor now. Jamie found herself peaking over hedges to find the au pair reading books as the children drifted and lazed in the grass, and she too, listened to the words and gentle voice, her trimming slowing as a result. And clearly the children were taken with Dani, with Flora becoming much like a shadow, following her about, weaving her dolls and flowers for her hair. Miles became less despondent, though not enough for the au pair’s opinion. Still prone to their bouts of melancholy, it felt as if they returned to being children again sometimes. 

Unlike before, Jamie didn’t leave without stopping into the house to see if she might get accidently pulled into an adventure. Before, she would leave without much more than a honk or a wave. But the heat made her shoes stick to the grounds that much more despite the growing exhaustion. 

There was something about staying that made Jamie uneasy. It wasn’t in her composition to remain and attach. 

“It has to break soon,” Jamie sighed to herself as she pressed a sweating glass against her neck. The chill lasted a moment and that was all, gone in an instant. 

“I’ve got ever window open in the house and there hasn’t been so much as a breeze in a week,” Hannah shook her head and continued the slow, gentle fanning of herself. 

The ice adjusted, breaking apart and clinking in a glass. 

“There’s not much more I can do to save the lawn on the south side. It’s getting burnt. It’ll take ages for it to bounce back if we that rain doesn’t hurry.” 

“But the produce has been otherworldly,” Owen offered happily. “What you’ve been harvesting has blown my mind. I haven’t seen such bounty. At least I could never manage it.” 

“I don’t know if it’s saying much then if that’s the comparison.” 

“Laugh at my expense, but it’s true. I’ll gladly trade the lawn for those carrots.” 

“What about you, Hannah, eh? An afternoon of rain or larger heads of cauliflower?” 

“I get more than enough veg, thank you. Owen, you’re looney if you think a breeze isn’t worth every pea in her garden.” 

“I never claimed to be any different,” he grinned before taking a sip of his drink. 

The patio hummed with the crickets and heat so that even their words were too much hot air, and perhaps unwelcomed in the perfect summer evening. It was late, well after sundown, and yet the employees earned a certain run of the place as their own home after dark, when the semblance of adults could be disbanded. 

The two prattled back and forth, much to Jamie’s amusement. The absurdity of how blind they both were, or perhaps Hannah’s staunch refusal for no reason at all didn’t much make sense to the gardener. It wouldn’t be right for someone like Hannah to refuse happiness-- someone who deserved it so completely. Jamie couldn’t understand that choice. 

“There she is, welcome, welcome,” Owen greeted the au pair as she made her way onto the patio. 

The light from inside glowed against her, and Jamie could see the sweat on her neck and the wet ends of her hair that escaped an incredibly high and incredibly tight pony tail. She smiled into her drink at just the thought of it. 

“Still having trouble getting to sleep are they?” Hannah asked as Dani took a seat at the small table of friends. “The heat isn’t kind to them.” 

“Thank you,” she nodded and took a heavy gulp before she winced at the alcohol content she hadn’t been expecting. “They are just so uncomfortable. I don’t even know what to do.” 

“Put them outside,” Jamie offered before three faced turned towards hers. “What? You’ve never slept outside before?” 

Two of the three shook their heads, while Owen perked up excitedly.

“We’ll sort them out tomorrow, don’t worry, Poppins.” 

“I’m willing to try anything at this point. You should have seen Miles’ face when I told him to just sleep in his underwear.”

There was laughter among the group, and across the table, Jamie watched the au pair more curiously than she ever had before. In the faint glow of the evening, she shamelessly stared, observing the interactions, slunk back in her chair and disinterested with much else. 

There’s always been a distance to them that the few feet that separated them now seemed too little, and such an easy stretch to cross. The gardener had seen the au pair in the yard with the children, running and climbing and playing in the sun, her blonde hair whipping around in a swirl as she moved quickly. The gardener had seen the au pair on the terrace, reading in the shade in those damned shorts and her pale skin practically glowing. They shared meals together, but always at polar ends, directly missing each other.

But never had the gardener so unabashedly stared at the newest addition to the trio, or rather the finishing piece of their quartet. She chalked it up to curiosity, because never before had she been so close to an American with a smile like that, or rather, never before had she been close to a smile like that or an American. 

Even when Dani met her glance, Jamie didn’t look away, but rather wondered more about the stranger before her. 

“I thought I was escaping the heat,” Dani shook her head as the company drew toward the end of their drinks. “This is worse than I could have imagined.” 

“It’ll break soon,” Jamie repeated with a bit more assurance. 

“You can’t listen to Jamie’s superstitions,” Hannah shook her head. “She thinks her flowers whisper to her.” 

“That sounds a bit mental. I’d never say that. But it is going to break. You can feel it.” 

“I never would have thought to accuse you of reckless hope,” Owen teased. 

“And you never should,” Jamie said as she stood, finishing her drink. “But the trees are dry and the creeks are hard. It’ll break because it always does.” 

“Got a timeline on that?” Dani asked, looking up at the body in the dark. 

“Sadly, I don’t,” she sighed. “But I believe in the rain.” 

As Hannah and Owen debated the weather and belief, the gardener smiled at Dani and nodded her good night. 

“I’ll see you lot tomorrow. I reckon it might be time for a camp out.” 

Dani smiled, cradling the glass to her neck and cheek. Jamie didn’t look away. The worst of it was, she hadn’t seemed to decide on anything at all. Her mouth just moved and now she was stuck. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“It doesn’t seem safe,” Miles complained as he helped lug an armful of bedding. 

“It’s perfectly safe. It’s not like you have to worry about anyone walking around the property,” Dani promised. “It’s just like being at a campground or in the middle of the woods, except much closer to the bathroom.” 

“We’ve never been properly camping before,” Flora announced. “We did sleep in the living room a few times, and tell stories, and drank cocoa.” 

“Well camping is supposed to be fun.” 

“Supposed to be?” 

“I’ve never gone either,” she shrugged, wiping the sweat from her brow. “But I’ll do anything to avoid the heat.” 

“It’s the same temperature outside as inside,” the little boy reminded the group as he tossed his pillow down on one of the carefully placed bedrolls, foraged from the deepest recesses of the garage attic. 

“It’ll chill come evening,” the au pair promised. “I never thought you’d be afraid of a little adventure.” 

“I don’t mind adventure, but I mind the mosquitos.” 

“We’ll take care of that, don’t worry.”

“It’s absolutely splendid, isn’t it, Ms. Clayton?” Flora brimmed as she spun around the camp on the back lawn.

With a surprising show inf ingenuity, it was true that the gardener with help from the chef, had transformed a spot beneath the hornbeam trees into a safari. The fire was already crackling to life as the children finished their last load of blankets, the beds were pallets and the chairs were from the patio, but the true gift was the open-faced tent, hung between a few branches of the wide tree so that the open wall faced the fire and the house. 

“It’s better than I could have imagined,” Dani agreed, smiling as she surveyed the set up until she found the person responsible and softened. “It looks amazing.” 

When Jamie made the suggestion, the au pair hadn’t really considered it happening, but when she showed up the following day ready to do it, enlisting Owen and even Hannah in some ways, Dani didn’t think twice about joining the event. 

“Just a bit of ingenuity and fierce, god-like strength,” Jamie winked, flexing a bit before grinning. “And Owen.” 

“It’s nothing,” the chef promised as he checked the sturdiness of his work. “I was a Scout Explorer. Fifteen years worth of survival and outdoor training with a healthy dose of community service.”

“And what was your reason for being so outdoorsy?” Dani turned to Jamie as she teased Miles’ shoulder, making him look. 

“Oh, I was raised by wolves,” Jamie explained, quite seriously, earning a look from the smallest of the party. “True story. Walked on all fours until I was older than you, Flora. Used to be able to talk to them, but it’s been so long.” 

“That didn’t happen,” Miles shook his head. 

“If you ever run into a pack of wolves, just say you know me.” 

He rolled his eyes but thought it over to himself as Dani accepted a drink from Hannah and took a seat, the hard work of setting up complete and the night working its way to them. 

It might have been psychological, or it might have been the fire, but the evening did seem to get cooler. It wasn’t a blustery winter by any means, but it felt tenable for the first time in too many days. 

For Dani, the best kind of moments were when the children were just that, giggly and smiling, living loudly and with exteriority. When Miles would flash a smile, absolutely smitten with everything Owen was telling him about knots and pocket knives and his own adventures in the woods as a boy. When Flora would lean against the side of the au pair’s leg and pat her knee excitedly as she had to get close to speak so quickly about how important it was to not burn the marshmallows. She could love them better, she believed. It didn’t seem an impossible task sometimes. 

For a second, she also lost herself in the magic of the evening. As Flora and Miles chased lightning bugs through the field, exhausting themselves after dinner, and Dani found herself in the company of who were quickly becoming what she might refer to as friends. The three caretakers of the manor and its inhabitants, slightly more willing to stay later for a moment like this as well. 

Three s’mores and four stories later, the late hour did it’s best to win out over the young campers. Huddled around the fire, they covered up and listened attentively as the gardener wove a wild story. Dani sat across, her legs stretched out and feet near the fire while Hannah held a bottle tightly beside her before carefully re-filling their cups. 

“I almost hate to admit what a good idea this is,” Hannah chuckled before re-corking their bottle as she sat it on the ground. “But they certainly are enjoying themselves.”

“It means a lot to them, for you all to be here and so interested. They don’t know it yet, but they will one day,” Dani nodded, looking over the flickering flames as Miles adjusted, pulling up the blanket, completely engrossed in the story. 

“I couldn’t be anywhere else. I’ve been with this family for… goodness, it’s been my whole life it seems.” 

“Still, you chose to stay. That means something.” 

“I’m not sure what, exactly,” the housekeeper sighed. 

“Love. Loyalty.” 

Dani watched a small smile creep into Hannah’s cheeks as she stared at the gardener, but didn’t hear a thing, so deep in thought was the housekeeper suddenly that she disappeared, or so it seemed. 

Jamie kept talking though, her story winding its way this way and that, hoping to be long enough to tire out the children. Her voice was growing lower to persuade them, and in just a few minutes, Flora fell asleep, her cheek pressed against the gardener’s chest, a blanket wrapped over them both. Dani wasn’t sure when she began to smile at the scene, only that she was and Hannah watched her take a drink to hide it. 

“The night we found out about the Wingraves, she spent the entire evening playing with them. When I got the call, I didn’t know how to say it, so we waited for their uncle to come tell them, and I remember Jamie watching them run up and down the stairs, playing some made up game that we couldn’t understand. And she was the one who made us wait. Let them be kids who have parents for just another hour, she told me. Another hour.”

Miles stretched slightly, his arm dipping until his head was on the pillow. 

“I’m sorry for the loss,” Dani offered as Hannah looked away from a sleeping Flora. 

“They’re adapting. Somehow.” 

“You all are helping, you know that, don’t you?” 

“Sometimes I’m not sure, but then I look at that,” Hannah nudged her chin at the sleeping children, at Jamie not bothering to move Flora, but holding her tight. “And I know that even in the most inopportune environment, even something kind and loyal and loving can emerge, whether they know it or not.” 

“What happened?” 

“She ended up here somehow,” she sighed and took another drink before standing. “Let me help you, dear. Don’t want to wake her after finally getting her to sleep.” 

Dani didn’t move as she watched the careful task of detaching Flora and tucking her in safely, all in hopes of not having to tell another story to put her back to sleep. The au pair watched Jamie’s movements with a keener eye. She traced the outline of her jaw and cheeks, saw neck and clavicle when the flannel she’d brought slipped down a shoulder with the movements, as if something, some tick, could explain everything that seemed to be an impenetrable fort. 

“And with that, I’ve had enough nature,” Hannah decided. “I’m going inside to my bed.”

“Booooo,” the other adults teased. 

“I’m too old for sleeping in the dirt, and so are you lot. We’ll see who is in better shape in the morning.” 

“I’ll, uh,” Owen stood, patting off his pants. “I’ll walk you in. Grab some more water for us.” 

“I know the way.” 

“Good, you can help me find the kitchen.” 

With a wave, they moved back toward the house, their lanterns swinging as they reached the door. Across from her, Jamie took to a chair, electing to stretch after sitting on the hard ground and beneath another human, tiny as she was, for so long. 

“I swear my arse went flat sitting there all night,” she mumbled, picking up the bottle Hannah had left behind. “Gardener by day, lawn chair by night.”

“I don’t think I’m as good with flowers as you are with them.” 

“No worries about me pilfering your job, Poppins. I find them exhausting and they are quite taken with you.” 

There was a fondness hidden beneath the feigned annoyance as Jamie surveyed their sleeping forms, resting comfortably with the fire flickering light into the tent. 

“They like you.” 

“What’s not to like? I’m quite a stirring specimen. And I make a damn fine s’more.” 

Dani couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she stood and meandered toward a chair, the stiffness that Hannah warned about nestling into her joints until she was certain she’d be locked in the seated position forever. 

“You’re not going to abandon me out here with them are you?” 

To her credit, Jamie considered it before tossing a lopsided smile toward the au pair who joined her. 

“It was my idea to sleep outside, wasn’t it? Can’t miss this. Plus,” she paused to finish her glass of whiskey. “I’ve been drinking. Not too safe to drive.” 

“I feel like I should thank you again for all of this. It’s… it’s amazing.” 

The stars were bright, unburdened with any rules of order, scattered throughout to the horizon and tree tops. The fire glowed but did not dim them at all, merely enhanced by attempting to add its own embers into the heavens, offering the sacrifice for permanent consideration, though none made it that far. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t doing anything else. I’ve had worse nights than a campfire and half-decent company.” 

“I’ll take half-decent.” 

“Oh, yeah… uh, I was talking about them,” Jame furrowed as she looked toward the sleeping children. “Juries still out on you.” 

“I’ve been known to be a good time,” Dani promised. 

Despite the teasing, Jame tilted her chin to appraise the au pair in the firelight, as if trying to discern if the statement was actually true. She cocked her head to the side as Dani readjusted, becoming oddly self-conscious of the look. A little nervous, she sipped her drink and winced against the burn. 

“I might be inclined to believe you, except you ended up here, same as us, and I’m not sure anyone here knows how to be a good time.” 

“I don’t know. You put all of this together.”

“A rare flash of brilliance,” Jamie shrugged. “We’ve been dying to know what brought you here, you know?”

“I’m that interesting?” 

“New, maybe. Interesting is to be determined.” 

Dani smiled into her cup, her body constricting tightly into itself as she was forced to think about things she’d hoped to forget. 

“But you don’t have to share,” Jamie added quickly, feeling the shift in the mood of the night. It was far too lovely out and the au pair was far too pretty sitting there, politely looking for a way out. “Doesn’t matter how, just that you got here. In my experience, it’s a bit of ill-fate that brings anyone here. Hannah and the cheating husband. Owen and the sick mother.”

“You, and the love of plants?” 

“Yeah,” she grunted. “Me and my curse for growing things.”

Jame ran her thumb along her cup before turning back to the au pair beside her. She wasn’t fond, suddenly, of upsetting her, and she didn’t want the conversation to end because unlike most others, she was incredibly invested in simply hearing Dani’s voice. 

“And me,” Dani decided, stiffening her spine a little with a deep breath, “Running away from everything back home because I just…” she looked at Jamie, willing her to understand how cowardly and weak she felt. “Couldn’t handle the pain anymore.” 

Her glance was strong, was inquisitive and kind, and Dani looked away from the warmth it offered. 

“You don’t have to run anymore. And you don’t have to have anymore pain.” 

It was an oddly comforting option and perhaps promise, Dani realized, one that she knew Jamie was in no place to give, but still she did, and for the first time, despite all of the people at the funeral and the hospital and in her life who let her off the hook, or at least thought they did, she felt as if she might be able to finally do it. 

Jamie’s hand was warm in her knee where it gave a squeeze, but did not let go, resting there as the gardener moved her head, twisting to be in the au pair’s view. Dani looked at her and couldn’t help but smile slightly. 

“I know you’re not alright. That’s okay, too. You don’t have to be yet.” 

Simultaneously, the weight grew and shrunk on her chest, but Dani relaxed at the feeling of it all. 

“I’m around, you know? Not really the best at talking, but I’ve got ears that occasionally work.” Dani couldn’t help but chuckle. “There it is, Poppins. No sense in having a pretty girl upset. It’s probably the greatest sin around.” 

“The greatest?” she scoffed, clearing her throat as the hand on her knee was retracted. 

“I haven’t been to church in a while,” Jamie confessed. 

“I couldn’t tell.”

“That’s what happens when you’re raised by wolves.” 

Once again, she filled up the cups, and Dani felt the gardener relax slightly beside her. She found herself envious of the apparent ease with which she moved through life. 

“I almost believe you.” 

There was another grin, lopsided and knowing. It was oddly frustrating, to feel so bare and understood by someone who was unreadable, but Dani challenged her before taking a drink. 

“Wolves don’t have to howl in the night and live in the forests or have fangs and claws.” Jamie paused and swirled around her drink. She looked up to see the lantern of their third returning. “Sometimes they wear suits and work at the bank or a department store, and they find a weakling and they do what wolves do. Suit or fangs, there isn’t much difference. I was raised by wolves.”

Dani didn’t register Owen’s return. She looked at Jamie who refused to look at her, but rather smiled as the chef sat down, prepared to tease him incredibly for his display with the housekeeper. But the au pair was struck with the first thickly veiled, but honest moment she might have ever had with the stranger beside her. She wanted more. She wanted to press and learn what it all meant, not the story, not the tale of it, the fiction and flowers and metaphors. But she found it was enough for the moment. 

“I found out why Poppins is at the Manor,” Jamie announced proudly as she tossed Owen the bottle. “She robbed a bunch of banks.” 

“I think she might be pulling your leg,” he shook his head. “Doesn’t seem the type to care about money.” 

“She did it for the thrill. She’s mad. Hide the silver.” 

“Don’t tell people that,” Dani scolded, hitting Jamie’s arm. “I’m just a teacher.” 

“A notoriously underpaid lot. She definitely did it for the money. Owed huge gambling debts. I don’t know what to tell you, Owen,” Jamie shrugged. “That’s the truth.” 

“Please don’t believe her.” 

“I hardly ever do,” he promised. 


	3. Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl

The heat roared into July without a bit of relief. Days stretched onward without the slightest speck of a cloud in the sky, without the slightest taste of rain for the county. The lawn lost its blush of green, lost its softness, instead growing dry and brittle and angry. The grounds seemed to sweat under the sizzling sun, thwarted from any relief by the burdensome layer of humidity that seemed to weigh everything down further. 

Over the course of the week, Dani noted the change in the way the gardener moved through the grounds. Ever with a weary eye no the horizon for any sort of break, she seemed to grow slightly more hopeless with every set back as she attempted to save all of her hard work. Still, day after day she toiled along, and Dani ran out of reasons to see her most days. 

The week became a grind where nothing went quite right, though there were no major catastrophes. The kids were slipping back into a mood, despite Dani’s best efforts, and the mythical heat wave didn’t help at all. Lessons weren’t going quite right, and the days were longer, nothing left to do. 

So, for the first time in perhaps her life, Dani decided to do something, to make her own moment of happiness. She did this, of course, by prowling the halls while the children were reading their assigned chapters to themselves. She did it with purpose and while almost admitting to herself that she enjoyed her time with the gardener. She hid it in benevolence and worry though, creating excuses in her mind to appear in the tiny room off of the back of the house, the glass roofed green house where a certain gardener could be seen prowling at any given moment. 

“It’s boiling in here. I don’t know how you do it,” Dani murmured, making her way down the few steps, careful and with hands full of sweating glasses that dripped on her feet. 

“I sweat my bloody tits off, that’s how,” Jamie retorted, not looking up. 

“Thought you might need to cool down. It’s lemonade. Don’t worry, Hannah made it.” 

Jame cracked half a smile. That might have been Dani’s favorite one, and with that realization she recognized that she must have been cataloging them. 

“It’s much appreciated. You’d take the time to think of little old me out here toiling away.” 

“It was actually the commotion you seem to make that reminded me.” 

“Well, whatever I gotta do, right?” Jamie smiled and accepted the glass, taking a long, long drink and sighing with the relief it brought. 

“Seems like it’s been a rough week for you.” 

“No rougher than the one before I imagine,” she shrugged, pulling her gloves back on. “Or the one to come.”

Dani watched her shoulder flex, not huge and built, but prominent and there, the muscle slivering beneath her skin. She watched her bicep move with purpose as she dug around. And finally, perhaps most importantly, Dani shamelessly watched the tank top ride up a few inches as Jamie reached for something on the shelf. And Dani gulped before blinking and staring at her drink. 

“Haven’t seen you around much.” 

“Not much for me to do, unfortunately. Just watering everything I can, all damn day.”

“Your starts are lovely though. I mean, your hard work shows. I’m sorry it hasn’t been easy.” 

Dismissive of any form of praise, Jamie just shrugged and returned to the pot. 

“They’re accustomed to this kind of thing, you know,” Jamie explained, elbow deep in a pot of soil. “Drought. Sun. Wind. Even the most fragile thing was made to withstand more than it thinks. I’m just trying to help them along as best I can.” 

“It’ll break soon.” 

“Now you sound like me.” 

“I like to believe in the inevitably of rain. Even now, it feels like one of the few sure things in life,” Dani decided, earning a smile. 

Jamie dragged her forearm against her brow, a streak of dirt appearing above her eye. She searched the au pair, to see if there was a hint of teasing in the line, but recognized the hope she once felt, as well. 

“You okay, Poppins?” 

“The kids are a little off. They’re bickering more than ever, and I’m getting more attitude from Miles than I have before. I offered to take them swimming in the pond again, and they about lost their minds–”

“This pond? Here?” 

“The one behind the old stables,” Dani nodded, furrowing at the look Jamie gave her as she paused her digging. 

“Did no one tell you about Becca?” She shook her head and Jamie sighed. “We found her body in the pond. That pond. Or rather, Flora did. They won’t go back to it.” 

“Jesus… I didn’t know.” 

“I don’t know if I would ever go back in. I don’t even like looking at it, I get so mad.” As if to accent her words, she shoved more dirt in, pushing harder. Dani felt her attempt at cheering up the gardener begin to backfire. “When I pulled her out… there was just… We did what we could.” 

“I thought I was escaping tragedies, and I keep bumping into them it seems,” Dani bit her lip, tightening them as she fret over it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

The guilt bubbled up, for bringing it up, for learning this about Jamie when Dani doubted she wanted it to be known. She thought of the gardener, soaked in her overalls, carrying the body of the former au pair out of the water. The way that must have hurt. 

“I’m alright. The kids are doing better. You came along and have really done a number on the whole place, if we’re being honest.”

“I don’t know if I can take any credit.” 

“You should. You have. Even for me.” 

From her spot leaning against the work table, Dani fiddled with the worn wood, ran her thumb along the knots and grooves. She knew she was blushing which she also knew, for some reason, only made Jamie look at her more intently. 

“I don’t know what to do for them now, though. They’re just…”

“Cooped up kids in a long, hot summer. Just let them be kids.” 

It wasn’t exceptional advice, but Dani felt better for hearing, for learning that sometimes there wasn’t a solution, or worse yet, perhaps there wasn’t even a problem for her to solves. 

“There is a place for a swim though, if you’re up for it,” Jamie offered without looking up from the pot she was arranging. “Not really appropriate for the wee ones. A little bit of a hike.” 

“I don’t know if I should leave them for any amount of time. They’re about to burst.” 

“You worry too much, did you know that?” 

“I worry just the right amount, actually.” 

Jamie laughed, one big ha. 

“You fret. It’s adorable, but you do.” 

“It’s not– I don’t– They’re my responsibility.”

“Hannah can watch them this evening, and you know it,” Jamie reminded her. “You haven’t left the grounds since you arrived. It’s been three months of being an au pair. You can have a moment.” 

“You’re a rotten influence. I came in to cheer you up, and I’m corrupted now.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Jamie nodded. Her spirit had been lifted. “I’ll meet you at the front gate at eight tonight.” 

“I have to see–”

Somehow, Dani realized too late that Jamie was so close, in her space, eye to eye and intimidating in a way that made the au pair want to never move again because it was incredibly thrilling. It’d been a stretch to go without human connection. 

“You can’t just fix everyone here, and not allow yourself some of that. I’ll see you at eight,” the gardener insisted, reaching around the frozen body, snagging a large sack, swinging it over her shoulder in one fluid motion. 

She backed toward the door outside of the green house as Dani just watched it happen. 

“I heard you were a good time once.” 

“Eight.” 

“Eight.” 

Before she could say anything else, to argue or confirm, Jamie walked out with a smile over her shoulder. Dani watched the gloves in her back pocket bounce and sighed, for the first time, audibly and defeated as sweat ran down her back in the sweltering room. She was still running, even if she didn’t realize it. Jamie made her see alternatives. 

In the distance, Jamie disappeared behind an ivy wall, and Dani finally made herself leave the green house. The tickle at the base of her sternum felt nice. 

XXXXXXXXXX

In the dark, Dani stood at the front gate, monstrous and wrought as it was, unsure of what she was doing there, leaving the grounds and the children, off to some undisclosed location with a relative stranger. Though, Dani reasoned with herself, Jamie didn’t particularly feel like a stranger. She felt like a book she’d once read but forgotten and rediscovered. She was understood, if not at all completely remembered word-for-word. There was an inherent safety and comfortableness with the gardener that Dani couldn’t quite place, and yet she didn’t know her birthday. Couldn’t even begin to imagine if she was right or left handed, wasn’t certain if she liked to read or enjoyed crappy tv. 

Behind the bleachers at the ninth grade dance, Dani kissed a girl. Neither ever spoke of it again, and Dani wasn’t sure she’d ever beat the feeling of having feelings and beating them back, deep into the bottom corner of her heart. 

Jamie felt like she was prying that open again, and it was exhilarating and also something insanely easy to overthink. There weren’t any bleachers at Bly Manor. 

The truck rumbled up the road, stopping before Dani had too much time to fully address the trail of thought she’d just found herself toying with. With a squeal of the breaks it stopped. Jamie slipped across the seat to open the door. 

“Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Dani resolved, hopping into the cab and offering a smile in the dark. 

The lights from the dashboard made the truck glow, and Jamie hadn’t changed since earlier. There was dirt on her neck now, but she remained unchanged by whatever happened in the hours between the morning and now. 

“There’s not much out here, so you haven’t missed anything,” Jamie said as she changed the gear and shifted until they were going down the road. 

“I don’t mind. It’s a nice change of pace honestly.”

Already there was a quiet between them as they trudged along. Dani took a deep breath and looked out toward the darkness, but couldn’t make out much minus the shadows of trees and the beam of the moon. But she didn’t fight it, as she normally would, hoping to escape any kind of quiet for too long. 

It was a short trip, just a few minutes up the road until Jamie heaved the wheel, turning them toward a pasture where she parked beside a fence. 

“I don’t understand,” Dani squinted to see what she was missing. “I don’t see anything.” 

“We’ll go on foot for a little bit,” Jamie explained as she hopped out. “I thought you were up for a little adventure.” 

“I am! I am.” 

Scurrying, Dani followed, taking Jamie’s hand to help her over the rails of the fence. She didn’t let go for a few more steps; until she caught her balance, she told herself. Jamie led them across the field, directing the best path away from the fence and the trees by the road. 

The heat stuck around from the day. In the distance, clouds formed, billowing and bulbous and just out of reach. They illuminated with static shocks every few seconds. 

“Looks like the rain is coming.” 

“Just heat lightning,” Jamie tossed over her shoulder, not pausing to give it too much attention. “But soon.” 

“I never thought I’d miss rain as much as I do this summer.”

“In a few months we’ll beg for this much sun.” 

“We’re never pleased, are we?” 

“Occasionally, and only for a very short amount of time.” 

“Do you ever think we’ll talk about anything other than the weather?” Dani tried. 

“Is there anything more pressing at the moment?” 

She never stopped moving, but Dani tripped slightly over the uneven field while Jamie pushed forward up the gentle hill, ever farther away from the car and the fence and the known. 

“Where are you from?” 

Jamie stopped moving so quickly that Dani nearly bumped into her. She turned around, her face barely visible in the night, but smiling as she snorted at the shift in their conversation. 

“That’s what’s on your mind?” 

“I don’t know anything about you,” Dani shrugged. “I’m curious.” 

“I heard that doesn’t go well for cats.”

“You don’t answer questions, you know? You skip past or say something to distract from them. It’s almost like you’re doing it as a reflex.” 

It seemed to have hit a spot as they walked for a few moments in the silence of their shoes clomping through the grass and the heaving breathing that came with the exertion of the hike. She didn’t want to, but Jamie seemed to admit to herself that maybe she did that, and maybe it was perhaps the most innate thing about herself, to defer, to deflect, to keep it all. She didn’t willingly keep herself a mystery, but rather preserved herself. 

“It’s a small suburb, a hamlet, really. Fallholt. Nothing there but coal dust and bitterness.” 

“How far is it from Bly?” 

“About three hours north. Do you feel like you understand my entire being now with this tidbit?” 

“It’s a start.” 

While she wanted to sound annoyed, Jamie didn’t seem to mind telling the au pair anything about herself. The problem came with the fact that she held so much of herself so tightly in her hands, it was proving difficult to wretch the words from herself, to wrestle anything free to give up. So well-practiced was she in the art of hiding herself away, that even when she gave herself permission to speak, it was impossible. 

“Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Seriously, Dani?” 

“Curious.”

“Righty.”

Triumphant with this knowledge, Dani caught up to the longer strides of the gardener until she saw the moonlight reflecting off of the water halfway down the other side of the hill. 

“That’s where we’re going?” she asked in disbelief. 

“I promised you a pond.” 

“Is this someone’s property?” 

“Isn’t everything someone’s property?” Jasmine asked innocently. “Do you think they’ll mind two trespassers?” 

“Probably.” 

“Maybe,” she agreed. “If they find out. Come on. I’m sick of sweating.” 

Before she could lodge her first protestation, Dani watched as Jamie started walking toward the pond. She doubled her own steps to catch up a minute later, though by then the gardener was already tugging off her shoes. 

By the time she reached the water’s edge, Jamie had created a pile of her boots and socks and unbuttoned part of her shorts before turning around to the au pair. Much more carefully, Dani put her shoes on the ground and looked warily over the water. 

“Um, where can I cha–”

Dani watched as Jamie tugged her top off and add it to the pile. 

“Let’s go, Poppins. I’m not going in alone.”

“Right, yeah,” she nodded quickly and began working at her own shirt, turning around to give some semblance of privacy. 

Over her shoulder, Dani looked quickly as she unbuttoned her shorts to see a gardener run and jump off of the small pier lit only by moonlight and heat lightening, clad only in a bra and underwear. The splash echoed across the empty field until she popped back up with a laugh and hiss at the chill. 

From the water, Jamie tossed her hair out of her face and tread, watching the form of the au pair wrap her arms around her middle and walk out onto the pier.

“It looks cold.”

“It is,” Jamie nodded, splashing an armful of water towards her, making her squeal. “It feels wonderful.” 

She worked exceedingly hard to keep her eyes trained on Dani’s. That was the polite and proper thing to do, and despite it all, Jamie worked hard to be just those things, despite what even she believed about herself. 

“Is there a ladder or steps?” 

“Good time, huh? Just jump. I promise to rescue you if need be.” 

“I can swim.” 

“Prove it.” 

There was a debate, some internal convincing before Dani stood there and pinched her nose, taking the leap a second later with much less force, but coming up with the same hiss and chattering teeth. 

“How is it s-s-s-so cold?” 

“Isn’t it great?” Jamie decided, taking a few strokes lazily around the newly bobbing body. “Haven’t felt this cool in weeks. I think I was overheating completely. My brain was about to melt.” 

“It does feel better than this afternoon did. Is there anything in this? Like fish?” 

“Oh, probably a few. Maybe some snapping turtles. Maybe some wee beasties on the hunt of trespassers.” 

Jamie skimmed along the water as Dani turned around to follow her. 

“That’s not funny.” 

With a mischievous grin, the gardener slipped beneath the water. Not a ripple remained of her, not a bubble as Jamie peered into the dark water as if it would help. Too long seemed to pass before she called out. Her leg was pulled a moment later, dipping her under. She came up splashing and shoving at the warm body. 

“That’s really not funny,” Dani complained with a laugh. 

“You could have fooled me,” Jamie laughed as well. “Don’t worry. Just you and me and maybe a few sleeping minnows.” 

“So long as they’re sleeping.” 

The water grew more comfortable, losing that biting chill that came to especially overheated bodies. Despite a few splashes earned for her not funny jokes, the pair simply glided around, enjoying the stars and the evening, falling into a relatively calm quiet. The groaning of bull frogs on the banks and the crickets in the field made more than enough noise. 

But Jamie couldn’t help but feel the need to say words, something she was beginning to dislike. Silence never bothered her. She’d learned long ago not to fill it up with too much because it was a gift. 

“I think you know plenty about me,” Jamie muttered as they floated, relaxing in the cool chill of the water on their overheated skin. Dani stretched, pulling herself through the water and furrowing at the blurted comment. “Earlier… you said I deflected. Like a reflex.” 

“You’re a tightly shut book. But I don’t mind.” 

Jamie dipped her smile into the water to hide it before wetting her face, running her hands over it to further hide any blush. 

“Where are you from?” she asked as Dani slicked back her hair. 

“A suburb of Chicago. Not too big, not too small. Perfectly average in every single way a town could hope to be.” 

“And you really were a teacher?”

“Mhm,” Dani nodded, shifting, skimming through the water. “Fourth grade. Started teaching immediately after college.” 

“How do you like it here?” 

“This might be the most questions you’ve ever asked me.” 

“Might be the most I’ve asked in my entire life,” Jamie agreed. “You’re not exactly an open book either, you know.”

The two bodies rotated around each other. The moon shined on slick shoulders, danced in the ripples they created. Neither looked away from the other, just floated along in an even harmony. 

“I like Bly. I love the manor. I appreciate everyone being so welcoming. I hadn’t thought of that part, but it’s been a nice surprise. And the children are… they’re special. They’re in so much pain sometimes, and they just don’t know what to do with it all. But they’re still so inquisitive and eager.” 

“Kids are resilient,” Jamie agreed. 

“It gets harder though, doesn’t it? To bounce back?” 

“Yeah. It does.” 

Dani nodded to herself and took a deep breath before closing her eyes and leaning back slightly. 

“Thank you,” she finally offered, finding Jamie’s face in the water as it gazed at the heat lightning rolling toward the west. “For showing me this.” 

“Couldn’t let you melt, could I?” 

“I suppose not.”

Dani pulled herself onto the pier finally, hoping to dry in the humidity and heat while the looming grey clouds flashed beyond the tree line, retreating somewhat from their threatening posture. She wrung out her hair and huddled slightly, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on it. 

Not wanting to leave the relief of the water, Jamie hung on the edge, letting her legs hang lazily, her hips remaining under the water. She rested her cheek on her arm as she stayed there. 

“What if I just want to forget everything from before?” Dani whispered, almost too quiet, almost as if it were an absent thought. “I don’t mean to be dismissive, I just… what if I want to not be or remember all of that?”

It was only when she met Jamie’s eyes did the gardener realize she was waiting for an answer, that it wasn’t just a dream. 

“I don’t know if you can.” 

Dani nodded, not enjoying the answer. 

“But I think it gets easier, sometimes,” she continued, hoping to provide some kind of relief. “It’s exhausting to keep running, isn’t it? I tried. I still do sometimes. But I think at one point I just stopped. I stood there and let it all tackle me, and it sucked. I didn’t enjoy it. But I got to walk afterward. And it wasn’t so tiring anymore.” 

“I know who I want to be, I just don’t know if I can get there, away from it.” 

“You can.”

“How do you know?” 

“If I can survive it, I know you can. You’re much tougher than I, Poppins.” 

To accent her words, Jamie tugged a toe, making a leg flop back into the water. Jame rolled her eyes and splashed with a kick, the girl who hid on the other side of the pier. 

“What if I’m not who you think I am?” 

“Who ever is?” 

“You can’t keep answering questions with questions to make yourself sound wise.” 

“Can’t I?” Jamie asked, pushing herself away until she floated on her back a little more. 

The moonlight was at its brightest in that moment, and Dani watched the pale skin of the gardener’s torso shimmer beneath the water. She lost the tan lines and curls, and was smooth and at peace. Like a fountain, she arched water from her mouth, grinning as she did. A true dichotomy of freedom and fear, all in one person. 

Dani stood once again, ready to keep running, at least for another night. She took a step back before launching herself with a laugh at the gardener. In a splash, they disappeared beneath the water, emerging only a second later with giggles and swearing and splashing.


	4. From a Cage

The sun finally disappeared for the first time in weeks. Defiantly it tried to shine through the thin layer of clouds that blew in from the northeast, burning them off, or at least doing its best. The air had a stiff breeze to it, pushing around the oppressive humidity, as if it could help, when really it just smeared it into the wound. 

Dani stood in the kitchen and sipped a glass of water in the quiet that seemed to come after lunch had dispersed. Off to their own devices, the children could be heard occasionally, playing or arguing or running with heavy feet down the halls. 

For just a moment, Dani allowed herself one instant to look out at the clouds and wonder if this was some kind of religion, the unrelenting hope and belief in the inevitable, the near satisfaction of it actually happening, the eager waiting, the small sample of euphoria, the fulfilment of a promise. There was a mild intoxication in the lust of it, the build up. 

Longingly, Dani leaned against the lip of the sink and followed the heaviness of the clouds as they moved along, teasing and taunting, plump with rain for another city or ocean or country. 

From across the way, she watched the gardener emerge from behind the old, ivy-laced wall, and for some reason she sunk a little deeper into her relaxed pose. She took a larger gulp from her glass. 

The well-worn overalls hung on one strap, the leg on one side rolled up a little bit, while the shirt beneath had been cut up to accommodate the season, the holes for the arm dipping low enough to expose ribs, and high enough to show that line of deltoid. All too suddenly, Jamie dropped her supplies she’d been carrying and began digging through them. 

It did nothing to wake Dani from the dream she’d been having, nor did it do anything to untangle itself from the sudden fervor the au pair suddenly had for rain. Instead, the fanaticism for the passing clouds was applied to the streak of sweat down Jamie’s arm, cutting through the dirt there and dripping off at a pointed elbow. 

She wasn’t tall, she wasn’t large or imposing, but Jamie had a sense of space and she took it up with her confidence. Dani liked to watch her move because she moved with purpose. The cut in her arm, in her bicep, it existed for a reason. The litheness, the wallowness of her bones and curves, they were a result of bending and reaching and stretching, of molding and making and living. 

Somewhat aware of the unabashed lurking, Dani looked around the kitchen, straining for noises or footsteps or anyone, really, to catch her in the act. That was how she knew it wasn’t right, though she wasn’t sure how. 

There was a moment that Dani leaned forward, a little closer to the window, clutched her glass a little tighter in her hands. She watched as Jamie began reaching up toward the top of the wall, tying back some of the vines. 

Similar to the buzzing, vibrating, humming feeling she remembered from the pond, that twisting and warmth deep in her stomach, the lightness and tightness, all at once in her chest, Dani felt it all again gradually descend upon her. She did everything to avoid looking at Jamie at the lake, and she thought she had, but still, she remembered the shape of her belly button and the notch of her spine, the dip in her shoulders and the mold of her knees. 

Now, too, Dani found herself remembering it all in flashes that made it difficult to breathe, in a way that made her thirst for rain. 

A crash from upstairs pulled the au pair from her indoctrination quickly. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the noise before going off in search of whatever maybe the children could have caused this time. 

XXXXXXXXXX

With an upward glance, the gardener wiped the sweat on her chest and her forehead as the afternoon waned toward evening despite the consistent heat that sizzled. All was quiet around, the children in the house or on the other side of the grounds, the bugs sick of humming and buzzing for the day, taking off early to find some rest. 

Prepared to wrap up for the day, Jamie surveyed the work of the day, the trellis repair and the trimming back of overzealous summer buds. It was hard but honest work and she enjoyed that moment of accomplishment. 

Once more, she looked around to assure herself that not tiny eyes would catch her in the act, or worse yet, that Hannah wouldn’t catch her again, and she dug a cigarette out of the pack in her pocket. With a little less motivation that her previous day, Jamie gathered her tools and wondered how to stick around without sticking around, or rather, how to say good night to the au pair. 

For the past few days, Jamie had been nearly floating on the memories of the pond swim that kept them up and talking until nearly sunrise. She dissected every moment of her time with Dani, hoping to figure something out, but never could come to any concrete answers. The au pair was far too elusive and perhaps unwilling to give enough to jump to any conclusions. But all the same, the gardener enjoyed spending time with her, and she couldn’t remember the last time she simply enjoyed existing. It was too hard to talk to most people; she tripped over her word and thoughts and ended up quietly listening and not listening. 

Now, she knew what Dani’s favorite smell was. 

But there was really no reason for anything else for her inside the house other than to say her goodnight and be on her way. Still, she mulled and smoked, circling her tools before looking back towards the front door. 

Like a streak, the newly familiar blonde appeared, zipping through the door, and around the corner, disappeared in an instant, too fast on her own feet for any good. But there was more power and speed to this movement than before, and Jamie rubbed out her cigarette before grabbing her tools and deciding on taking the long way back around. 

The shape of the au pair appeared on the other side of a planter, half hunkered, back expanding quickly as she tried to find a way to breathe. Jamie slowed her walk so as not to fully interrupt something like that. It felt like waking a sleep walker, and she’d always been inclined to believe in the magic of it. Dani’s shoulders shook slightly as she tried to straighten her spine. She curled up slightly before forcing herself back up again. As harrowing as it was, Jamie cleared her throat and jostled the bucket in her hand, making the au pair jump slightly at the intrusion. It was a clumsy way to wake someone, but she didn’t know of another. The gasping breaths seized immediately, but the face didn’t turn to look at her.

The gravel crunched beneath the bucket as she placed it and her tools on the ground, a peace offering, an armistice line. 

“So, uh,” the gardener squinted toward the sun and shoved her hands in her back pocket. “What did the little monsters do?” 

“No, it’s… um–” 

“I know it’s frowned upon, to wallop a child, but I’m not one to rely on my reputation. A bit more tarnish couldn’t hurt it.” 

Dani didn’t move, just kept looking straight away, unwilling to do anything but hold her breath. Defeated, Jamie kicked at the gravel slightly, swinging her leg and puffing out her cheeks as she searched for something in the deepest parts of her brain to earn a sound or look from the au pair. 

“Plants are much easier. I find it’s not as taboo to murder a gaggle of heliotropes for not behaving. My discipline is harsh, I bet. But if you need some child rearing advice, I’m around.”

As much as she hadn’t meant to, Dani laughed, a relieved, genuine chuckle at the absurdity of the gardener, and Jamie inhaled it too quickly. 

“There we are,” she smiled to herself, victorious as all. “It’s not so bad. You’re hardly the first. I’ve cried… goodness, daily. Hourly, even, since working here. Helps to keep the evergreens so effervescent. If you’ve ever marvelled at my lustrous plentitude, I promise it’s from my own deep, deep well of inconsolable tears.” 

The au pair finally turned, much of her body still hidden behind the planter, but her eyes, the red-rimmed and puffy eyes glittered in the haze of the summer. Jamie swallowed slightly at the site and offered a smaller smile. Dani smiled at her, somewhere between relieved and burdened, unable to decide which was worse. 

“You’re doing great,” Jamie offered quickly, her feet betraying her and taking a step forward, naturally drawn to fix the problem. “You’re doing great.” 

“Thank you,” Dani nodded before looking away to wipe her eyes. 

“Alright,” she took a deep breath before picking up her tools. “Chin up, Poppins.” 

The best she had, the girl effectively returned to something short of sad, Jamie decided it was time for the quickest escape imaginable, and though she controlled her steps, she refused to turn around. 

XXXXXXXXX

The garden on the eastern side of the house was a continual work in progress. The gardener spent a portion of nearly every part of her day working on the roses and bushes, tenderly turning the area into a perfect oasis of blooming buds. It was her favorite part of the entire manor and grounds, it was her oasis. The tall brick wall was flanked by even taller pines, casting heavy branches like a ceiling over the edges. 

To say that there was an absolute explosion when the garden was massacred, would have been an outright lie. It was apocalyptic. The nanny wasn’t sure she’d ever seen someone who was simultaneously full of loss and wrath, but Jamie stood there, shaking, vibrating with a kind of rage that surpassed any kind of mortal feelings. At first, Dani was certain it was going to be quiet, that Jamie was swallowing it completely. But it wasn’t quiet. She marched across the garden, fist full of decapitated roses, petals in her wake, and began yelling. 

It took ten minutes before she tired herself out and Dani was able to calm her down. It took a few more hours for her to round up the culprits. 

“How are they doing?” Dani called as she helped direct the clean up efforts across the garden. 

“Looks alright to me,” Jamie nodded. “Don’t forget the mulch.” 

“Got it,” she smiled, helping Flora pick a few things. 

Even though she wanted to be mad, Jamie struggled with the fact that Dani looked very cute with a scuff of dirt across her forehead. She didn’t enjoy that her anger was so quickly quelled by a pretty girl. That didn’t seem fair. She should be able to hold onto all of that rage for a little while longer, in her own opinion, not lose it because a girl smiled at her. 

“She’s really putting them through their paces,” Hannah observed over the rim of her glass. “They should be playing.” 

“Have to learn about consequences,” Jamie shrugged. “A little hard labor is good for a growing kid.” 

“She’s tough on them. But maybe you’re right. They can be a little bit of a handful from time to time.” 

“You should know better than anyone. You clean up after them all day. Owen cooks for them. I make sure they don’t get lost in the woods. They need a little bit of structure.” 

“They’re working hard. I just want them to play,” Hannah sighed and swirled her drink around against the heat.

Jamie put her foot up on the edge of the chair and dug in her shirt pocket to pull out the pack of cigarettes. She let her eyes slowly drift back to the nanny who stood, hands on her hips as she looked down at the pile of debris the kids accumulated. She gave some orders, directing them around the yard. 

“What did I miss?” Owen asked as he took a seat between the two women. “How are the delinquents doing?” 

“They’re doing well,” Hannah smiled. 

“Hannah wants them to frolick and return to the glens, unfettered by their impetuous choices, free to roam the world causing chaos.”

Owen gave the housekeeper a look who just shrugged, not bothering to admit that it was almost the truth. 

“I don’t think that’s much of an option with the warden overseeing their parole.” 

Jamie chuckled and drifted back to the au pair. She didn’t catch Dani’s eyes, nor did she even earn a passing thought. But they were friends, she would venture. They were people who occasionally chatted in the evening, and they were people who had coffee every morning together in the green house, even if it tasted terrible. She drank it all anyway dutifully if it meant ten uninterrupted minutes with the au pair, though she’d never admit it. 

“What’s that?” she murmured, snuffing out the cigarette butt and looking over as Owen topped off her drink, missing half of their conversation already. 

“What do you think of the American?” 

“She’s wonderful with the kids. I think she’s doing a splendid job.” 

“Bit private isn’t she?” 

“You must have talked with her a bit more,” Hannah pressed. “I’ve seen you two skulking about, lingering in hallways, giggling.” 

“You make us sound like school girls, Hannah. Shame on you gossiping and such.” 

“Curious about the other person who lives in the same building is all. What do you think of her?” 

Jamie looked once more, this time meeting Dani’s quick glance and gulping slightly. They held the look for longer than expected, and Jamie remembered the feeling of cold water and Dani’s smile as she held her nose and jumped into the pond. She remembered the smell of their skin in the back of her truck as they dried off in stiff old blankets and stared at the stars, the grass and the water leaving the earth behind on their joints. 

“A touch too pretty to be a nanny, I reckon.”

“Owen?” 

“Oh, I um, I don’t know that I’ve thought of her, erhm, that way,” he cleared his throat and eagerly drank from his glass as Jamie turned it around to him. 

“You’ve seemed to have made your mind up about her,” Hannah decided, reading Jamie’s face and the little bit of pink in her cheeks. “And you never do that.” 

“Jury’s still out. I give her another month before she’s running for the hills from those little brats and this bloody place.” 

“I don’t know. I think she’s taken to it.” 

“Can’t count on someone like her to stick.” 

“Why’s that?” the housekeeper prodded, noticing another quick glance between the gardener and the au pair. 

“She’s too good,” Jamie explained, neither sad, neither conflicted, neither happy at the news, but merely presenting a fact. “Too alive to wallow away at Bly Manor.” 

“It’s not like that’s what we’re doing,” Owen scoffed. “We’re young and hot.” 

“Speak for yourself, darling.” 

Jamie didn’t argue, but looked down at the slow drip of condensation on her glass and felt the sinking deja vu feeling that haunted her from time to time. They were all running from something, hiding behind the walls of the manor, only they didn’t see it that way. Jamie wasn’t running anymore, but she’d been defeated and relegated to such, she thought. Dani wasn’t there yet. 

“She is full of life,” Hannah nodded, almost quietly. “It’s oddly contagious, if that’s the right word for it.” 

“Something like that,” Jamie agreed, wiping away the moisture on her cup on the edge of her pants before taking another sip. 

“Is your brother still coming next week? You should invite Dani with us to the show,” Owen decided for her. 

“No way she’d want to go to some backwoods hoot and holler that my mangy brother is doing,” Jamie scoffed this time, shaking her head at the notion. 

“I think it’s high time she saw some Bly culture up close and personal.” 

“She does need to get out, love. You know how tiring it is to live here non-stop,” Hannah agreed. “Invite her. Take the pretty girl dancing.” 

“I didn’t mean pretty like– I was just observing–” the gardener stopped trying to find the word because it wasn’t coming and Hannah had given her the look that said it was hopeless. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to come.” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

“Dani! Dani!” Owen began to call out, waving his hand until Jamie made him stop, prepared to threaten him within an inch of his own life. 

“I’ll ask her tomorrow,” Jamie promised, hissing the words. “I’ve got to go,” she stood up abruptly. “And see about the… there was that squeaky hinge in the pantry.” 

Before Dani could make it over, the gardener was off, retreating and not looking back over her shoulder once at the scene. Hannah just smiled at Owen and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“I told you. That’s five quid.” 

“She never said she liked her,” he taunted back. 

“You must not be fluent in Jamie, but if you were, you’d know that ‘squeaky hinges’ was code for ‘help, the pretty blonde American is coming over and I don’t know how to be a human and speak with her because she’s so pretty’,” Hannah explained. 

“I’ll pay up if she invites her,” he retorted. “And not a moment sooner. I have my doubts about this flirting you allegedly have seen.” 

“You’re blind, love.” 

“Just blinded by you.” 

“Oh, shush,” the housekeeper fluttered away the comment with a wave of her hand though she smiled to herself. “Jamie is smitten, and you know I’m right.” 

“But is Dani?”

“The five quid question, isn’t it?” 

“Mmmm,” they both hummed together as they watched the gardener disappear completely into the house.


	5. Old Old Fashioned

The show was at the largest venue in Bly, an old community center that doubled as town hall, wedding rental, voting station, and almost every other event in between. The bar in the back was composed of tapped kegs in containers of ice and boxes of cheap liquor, while the stage rose only two feet off of the ground on the opposite wall. Old wood beams held up the roof and giant pillars kept all of it standing, solemn and tender as they were, worn soft with age and bodies and heat. 

It felt smaller than her elementary school gymnasium, but Dani didn’t mind. The warmth of the bodies that filed in felt safe, as if she could feel every beating heart. 

Owen was kind enough to grab the first round, returning with stretched hands full of frothy pint glasses. The lights were dim, just strung up string lights hanging from the rafters, the vents propped open for added fresh air while the ceiling fans wobbled on their stems to keep everyone from roasting. Dani surveyed everything, enjoying how normal it all felt, and how weird it was to be around so many people suddenly. Laughter and conversation boomed and echoed around them, and it, too, was a comfort she hadn’t expected. 

There was something different about Jamie, as they sat down at a small, lopsided table in the corner, the whole party oddly anxious all around to be away from the house for the first time in a long time. But Dani picked up on a different kind of anxiety in the gardener. She knew it was about the rarely-seen sibling, but she also didn’t know how to fix that. Something told her she couldn’t help despite her desire to do it. Jamie hadn’t given her enough to be someone that could make this better. 

“It’s pretty full. He must be fairly well-known,” Dani offered as Jamie went half in on her drink quickly. 

“This is the only thing happening tonight,” she disagreed. “Not much entertainment coming through Bly. They’ll take anything they can get.” 

“I’m excited for some music,” Owen decided. “Time to cut a rug and such.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll remember how,” Hannah sighed wistfully before taking a demure sip of her beer. “Can’t keep up with the new stuff.” 

“What kind of music does he play?” Dani turned to Jamie who stared at the swirling mass of people. “Jamie?” 

Startled slightly by the hand on her thigh, Jamie followed the touch up the arm to the au pair’s amused gaze and cleared her throat. 

“Oh, he grew up play traditional stuff back home. Kinda branched out all over. He mostly is just in the band. This is his first band where he’s been the lead. Calls himself a Swiss Army knife of a musician. Whatever books him the gig for the next few months.” 

“It’s going to be fun,” Dani promised, quieter this time, just fo Jamie. “I’m sure he’s excited to see you.” 

“Or he needs a kidney or money.” 

“Maybe,” she shrugged, squeezing the leg in her palm. “But at least we get a night off.” 

The gang relaxed into their spot as the hour ticked on toward show time, while still more locals filled the hall, milling about, drinking and existing for a rush. Jamie, too, relaxed slightly despite her constant looking out over the crowd for familiar faces. Dani moved her hand to take a drink from her glass and didn’t put it back, but the length of their arms rested together, squished at the table. Jamie thought about that a lot. 

They were four friends, not coworkers. They were four friends, being themselves, and it was a wonderful feeling for them all. 

By the time the band took the stage, their table had the remnants of three rounds of trips to the bar, and while not exceeding drunk, they were laughing more than ever before. 

Jamie looked at her brother as he took to the mic for just a minute before turning to the au pair, oddly vulnerable in the moment. She watched Dani stretch her neck to get a better view as the lanky young man put a guitar strap over his shoulder and introduced himself. 

“That’s him,” Jamie nodded. “Mikey.” 

“You have the same chin,” Dani decided, turning her eyes to the gardener beside her, appraising her, strictly for comparison’s sake. “And… “ she smiled. “The same eyes.”

“Are you blind? His are painfully brown.” 

“No, not the color,” she shook her head. “This part.” 

Jamie felt her smile falter as finger tips touched just under her eyes and moved around to her brow, causing the furrow to soften. She just watched Dani smile softly with her observation. 

“You have eyes like a forest. Sometimes green, sometimes brown, sometimes gold, sometimes all of them at once. It’s oddly fitting. I think you might be made of the woods.”

It knocked her out to hear that. Jamie filed every word, every shape of every syllable to keep to herself and replay all night. The whole thing. The smell of the drinks on their breath. The feeling of the skin on her brow. The fact that Dani was less than a foot from her face and that was the closest they’d ever been. The way the lights overhead made her hair glow white almost, or golden sometimes. And the words. No one ever took the time to say something like that to her, but it was said so factually, so unlike a line, that it felt like maybe it was a fact. That Dani was someone who could make facts true. 

“Excuse me–”

Dani looked away before Jamie did. Time didn’t quite matter at that point, because the gardener had forgotten even where she was. 

“We already have drinks, thanks,” Dani dismissed the man at the table. 

“I already know I’ll strike out with this one,” the stranger nudged his head toward Jamie. “But I was hoping for a dance from her beautiful friend.” 

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Jamie slumped back in her chair as the music swirled to a new height, louder than should have been allowed. 

“See what I mean?” he teased. 

Dani looked to Jamie who just shrugged and relented. 

“We play darts at the pub. He’s a shite dancer and darts player.” 

“I don’t know,” Dani politely shook her head, bashful suddenly. 

“I’m a great dancer,” he promised. “I’ll show you around.”

“First one to dance with the American wins the pot, yeah?” Jamie looked over his shoulder at the table she knew to be the regulars about town. “How much?” 

“I’d never partake,” he promised, holding out his hand. 

“Go on,” Hannah encouraged the au pair. “Quite a strapping young man.” 

“I’ll be coming back for you,” Tommy nodded toward the housekeeper. 

With one more glance at the gardener, Dani tentatively took the hand extended to her. She was tugged out to the dance floor, laughing and holding on for dear life, much to Jamie’s chagrin, which she buried deep down as she tried to make herself watch her brother perform. 

“I suppose I better get my dance in while I can before that goliath comes back,” Owen stood, offering a hand to the housekeeper. 

“I’m all left feet,” Hannah shook her head. 

“Perfect. I’m alright.” 

The guitar twanged, and drums kept a beat, and the classic noises of their festivals were spun into a modern kind of feeling, alive and new but still with the steps and changes. Whatever the people had expected, this wasn’t it, and perhaps they were surprised and grateful for it. Mikey’s voice was deeper than Jamie remembered, deeper than the sparse phonecalls separated by months. He looked like their mother. He looked like his father more, and that man was a stranger to Jamie. 

But for the life of her, she wasn’t sure how he did it– how he turned the entire place alive. 

XXXXXXXXXX

James was tall. Much too tall, Dani realized as they danced together. But he was sweet and polite, careful to ask the basic questions, compliment her enough. He made it to the second song before he was interrupted with a request for her hand by another strapping young man in a stripped shirt. 

For some reason, Dani accepted despite the annoyance of being away from her table. When she looked over, she saw Jamie alone, slouched there, but intently watching her brother. From the table, the gardener chanced a look to see the smiling au pair, glowing and effervescent as all hell. Dani kept a distance with her dancing partner, Benny from the grocer down the block. 

By the third partner, Jamie was beyond annoyed. She didn’t like the way Dani held their hands, nor did she appreciate how the boys smiled and were so polite and she kept the smile on for them. 

Only when James made his pitch to the newest woman in town, did Jamie decide that it was enough, that she couldn’t handle the fearful but polite look of the au pair, that she didn’t want to see anyone else, that she wanted to be the last one dancing with the American. 

“May I?” 

Dani looked toward the voice as James put some space between them finally. Gallant and cocky, Jamie challenged him to say no. The song swirled around them all in the stand off, outliers in the moving mass. 

“Yes, of course,” Dani nodded, dropping her hands and nodding politely to the gentleman caller who took it well enough for her sake. 

Satisfied at her handiwork, Jamie gave him a smirk as he rolled his eyes in his defeat. She held onto the victory as best she could, aware that it now meant touching the au pair, and she hadn’t particularly planned on this part of the endeavour. 

“Looked like you’d seen a ghost. Thought I might save you if you didn’t mind.” 

“He… he looked like…”

“James looks like everyone. That’s his curse, you know? Destined to be a fill-in despite my best coaching to find him a proper bride.”

Dani gave up thinking about it. She didn’t want to anymore as Jamie held her hand and pushed her hip, spinning her out, exaggerated and right on time. By the time she was pulled back, all was gone with the past and what remained was just that second. 

“How was my delivery this time?” the gardener asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “I’ve been practicing after my last report card.” 

“Much better.”

“I can always call him back over and we can try again, if you’d like to provide notes.” 

“That’d ruin the follow through.”

“Ah, right,” she sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to keep saving you then, if that’s alright? Strictly for revision.” 

“Strictly,” Dani nodded, fighting her smile though it burst forth a little. 

The song shifted to the next, but neither moved, neither let go. The lights flickered slightly overhead, the ancient electrical system unaccustomed to the weight of the music and the mood. Dani softened in Jamie’s hand. She wasn’t sure how, or where it all came from, but she took a breath and washed away the nagging feeling that she was doing something wrong. She was out with friends and the music was good and the night was happening. 

The gardener adjusted their pace, deftly moving them in a way Dani hadn’t expected her to be capable of doing. What was revealed just showed the multitudes that remained hidden, perhaps under lock and key, from the average passerby. But Dani was set to investigate, no matter the cost. 

They moved in a comfortable quiet, until Dani realized she was closer than she’d been with anyone all night, and for the first time it hadn’t felt like work. She ran her thumb along the worn fabric of Jamie’s shirt, willing herself to remember just that, just the threadbare feeling and the smell of sawdust and begonia. 

“Did he call you a ‘bonnie lass’?” Jamie asked, pressed close. Dani swallowed as a hand moved to her hip. “Try his exaggerated accent and tender Scottish boy routine on you? Call you beautiful beyond compare?” 

“How did you know?” 

The smirk appeared, only this time Dani was so close she could practically miss it. Her nose nearly touched a dimpled cheek. The heat from the crowded bar and the last vestiges of summer made the moist ends of Jamie’s hair even curlier. The au pair held onto her shoulder and felt a squeeze on her hand as they moved to the pace of the music. 

“Taught him everything he knows, Poppins.” 

Dani chuckled and shook her head, pushing away slightly though she didn’t make it far, the tight grip of the gardener keeping her still as the song began to close. 

“His accent was quite charming.” 

“And ye’ don’t like mine?” Again she leaned closer. Dani could smell the sweat and Jamie-like scent on her skin, just beneath the beer and heat and wood of the bar. As the music grew quieter and the applause rose, Dani felt the tickle of breath on her neck. “Do you need someone to tell you how beautiful you are? Do you not know, Dani?” 

“I…” 

“It has been an absolute pleasure to play our songs for you tonight,” Mikey interrupted the applause. “We have just a few more for you to enjoy. Thought we could do an old favorite, spice it up a bit and really wear down these old floor boards if you’re interested.” 

The arms that were holding her up loosened and Dani was left in a daze as Jamie whistled and hooted, so that all the au pair could do was wake from the haze of the bright dance floor and squished bodies and weakly clap as well. 

In the middle of the entire group of happy, dancing humans, Dani felt, for an absolute instant, that she was free. Her hand was still on Jamie’s shoulder until she snatched it away, remembering herself. Someone shifted, and she saw Eddie’s face in the crowd for a split second, and the warmth that seemed to emanate from her very core went cold, like water on a fire. 

A drowsy guitar chord began, lazy and somewhat more old-fashioned than the previous set. Before Dani could escape it, she was stuck, and a beaming gardener turned to her. 

“M’lady,” Jamie held out her hand after a formal and deep bow. 

Dani took her hand and looked around to remind herself it wasn’t real. 

“I, uh, I don’t know the steps,” Dani whispered, fumbling slightly. 

“Good thing it doesn’t matter then,” Jamie promised. “Keep up and find me, yeah?” 

“Find you?” 

“Aye, you’re the hen in this fox house.” 

By the time the drums kicked in, Dani felt herself relax in Jamie’s gentle guiding, the music and her smile infecting her completely. Just as she was getting the hang of it, Mikey’s dulcet tone humming and vibrating the very rafters with the stamping of feet. And despite herself, the warmth came back to Dani as the chorus rang out. She lifted the hem of her dress slightly as she bounded around, completing the steps, stomping the rhythm out. 

It was sometime at the beginning of the second verse that Dani felt herself tossed, moved around from dancer to dancer, spun and laughing so loud she thought she wasn’t making a sound because the music drowned it out. She was dipped and spun, with various sized hands on the small of her back, and twisting her hand as she moved from suitor to suitor and with every passing chord she felt free and light, she felt like she was floating. Each caller seemed more eager than the one before, and Dani lost track of time itself. 

She lost sight of Jamie in it all, and dismissed Eddie’s visage in the dark corner for a moment as Owen snagged her, carefully tugging her back to the present and maybe the future, his movements no where near as easy and agile as the gardeners despite his best efforts. He lasted about ten seconds before her hips were encircled by strong arms, and Hannah found her a few seconds later, both out of breath and brimming with warmth before Owen spun to her as well. 

And it didn’t matter that she hadn’t a partner for a few moments as Dani allowed herself this second, to not catch her breath but rather keep losing it. She felt her cheeks aching from expressing more joy than she had perhaps ever before in her life, right there, on the unsanded and stained old floorboards of the ancient community center. The lights were too bright, too hot, the fans ineffective against August and the bodies who didn’t seem to mind. Dust kicked up and floated around them while the walls seemed to shake and move with them, allowing such jubilee. It was unexpected, to suddenly be alive. Unexpected and confusing and overwhelming. 

In the middle of all of the bodies and all of the bliss, Dani found herself trying to remember the last time she’d danced, truly, honestly, painfully, deliriously, deafly danced. 

“I thought I told you to find me, Poppins,” a low voice murmured against the shell of her ear. 

Jamie was her favorite dancing partner. It was no contest really. The other dancers were great in their own ways, but never quite right; some were too tall, and some too short, some not fast enough, and others were too slow. None of them had the smile. None of them chased away the guilt of being alive. Her smile was infectious and only made Dani’s bigger. The drinks of the evening were coming to a head into a perfect timing of buzzing beneath her skin and feet. It was Jamie who made the magic, and only right there did Dani realize it. 

“I can barely see straight,” Dani laughed, her smile poking her own ears, her movements a little more haphazard, but she didn’t care because Jamie met each and every one of them. She knew the steps now and she couldn’t be bothered to care. 

The music slowed for a moment, but the crowd knew it was just gathering it’s momentum, and Dani inhaled the calm as Jamie spun her and clung, their hips close. 

“This is the best part,” the gardener promised, shuffling them along. Chests heaved to catch breath. From beneath her lashes, she looked at Dani and noted the pink of her cheeks and the red of her lips. 

Sweat slicked the curls to Jamie’s forehead, the tan of her skin not at all hiding the blush of her chest. 

“Am I going to be hunted again?” 

“With a face like that? Yeah, I’d say so.” 

“Don’t let go then.” 

As much as she wanted to freeze time, it wouldn’t, and the song continued, exploding into noise for the finale. A small curl of the guitar grew quicker, prepared to grow louder until the drums came back in. Dani didn’t hear Jamie’s response, but rather felt the grip tighten. And all hell broke loose, bodies ducking and dodging and moving. Dani tossed back her head as Jamie spun her again and again and again until it stopped with no more than a whimper.

As soon as it ended, Dani wobbled before tossing her arms around Jamie’s neck and laughing there. She let herself be spun once again, her dress flowing around her knees as the crowd applauded and cheered, the laughter milling between it all.

“Didn’t know you could move like that,” Jamie chuckled. 

“Me neither,” Dani confided, still slightly amazed. 

“Seems like you needed it.” 

“I did.” 

The next song began and with a little less confidence than before, Jamie held out her hand again. 

“Unless you’d like a break,” she offered. “I’d go for a pint–” 

Dani took her hand and moved closer again. There wasn’t the rumble of the song among the people, there weren’t steps to it, just two people pressed tightly against the rest of the room. 

“I don’t want to stop moving,” Dani sighed, resting her cheek on the gardener’s shoulder. “It’s safe here.” 

She didn’t get to see the small smile that Jamie had as she stood a little straighter, grateful her brother knew enough to play a slower song after such a commotion. 

“I suspect you might have a few attempts to interrupt.” 

“Please don’t let go,” Dani shook her head. 

“It’s going to get another thumper in a minute.” 

“Good.” 

“You better hold on tight.” 

XXXXXXXXX 

The town of Bly was nearly quiet until the bar spilled open and from the large doors, a wave of overheated bodies washed out onto the lane, pouring into every direction as the drinks were cut off and the music finally ended. It was a clear and warm night, with thin clouds occasionally hiding the stars, creating patches that tore at the evening intermittently. The respectable crowd was already in bed, and the rowdy bunch set about slinking home. 

With a bit of nerves, Jamie bit at the skin of her thumb as she toed where the dirt met the grass near the fence beneath the old lamps that led back into the town proper. Cars began humming past, kicking up dust as they dispersed despite a few roaming gaggles of drunk and laughing friends. 

It’d been nearly a decade since she’d danced so much or had that much fun. It was still swirling in her head as she came back down to earth. The continual spinning could only be attributed to the au pair and her laugh, how it bounced around the room, better than the music, and how carefree she looked, moving with such freedom it betrayed all of her power walking through the manor. It was entirely a new problem, Jamie realized, to see such a tightly wound thing break away because she was perfect before, and now it was… it was… 

She sighed and dug for the smushed pack of cigarettes in her back pocket. She just wasn’t going to think about any of it and blame everything on the stiff drinks and mixture of alcohol and music. It worked for the puritans. 

“Your brother was pretty good,” Dani offered, taking a seat on the fence. “He got all of the talent then?” 

“I’d like to see him grow three varieties of orchids,” the gardener murmured as she stuck a cigarette between her lips and began the curious search for her lighter. 

“I meant musically. You are clearly a talented dancer and botanist and camper and trainer of young men in the art of flirting.” 

She couldn’t help but smile as she met Dani’s eyes during that list. She fiddled with the cigarette, wiggling it between her teeth as she leaned against the fence. Her shoulder touched Dani’s leg, where the hem of her dress fell on bare knees. 

“Must be from the other half of his genetics.”

The flick of the lighter effectively ended the conversation, or at least she hoped, shielding it from the nearly non-existent breeze out of practiced habit. She took a long drag and tilted her head up to add to the flimsy collection of clouds hidden in the dark behind the streetlight. 

“Thank you for tonight,” Dani offered amidst the quiet. 

“I didn’t do anything but bring you to a lowbrow night at the opera. Not sure it’s in need of any gratefulness.” 

With another drag, Jamie shook her head and crossed her arm over her middle. Dani reached over and pulled the cigarette from her fingers before taking a deep drag herself. Elegantly, like a professional, she fiddled with it, furrowing at the burning end. Jamie hadn’t ever thought to imagine such a sight from the tight pony tail in human form. But now that she had seen it, she didn’t want to imagine anything else. 

“Thank you for tonight,” she repeated, handing it back. 

“You’re welcome. Thanks for… thanks for coming.” 

“I want to dance more.” 

“Lucky for you, I know a guy who can pluck a fine tune,” Jamie stood a little taller. “I’ll go fire up the band again.” 

“No no, stop,” the au pair laughed, tugging Jamie’s arm back from her faux errand. “I meant in general. I need more moments to feel… to not see… for–” Despite the smile on her face, Dani struggled to find the right way to say what mattered. Helplessly, amused at it all, she looked to the gardener. 

“To feel invincible.” 

“Yeah, that.” 

In almost quiet they passed the cigarette back and forth until Jamie tossed it to the ground, snubbing it with the toe of her shoe. 

“I should go find Hannah and Owen, get a ride back to the Manor.” 

“I was– I could take you.” 

“Enjoy some time with your brother,” Dani reminded her as she hopped down, her hand firm on Jamie’s shoulder for support with the maneuver. “It’ll probably be another six years before you see him again.” 

“I’ll see you around then.” 

“Seems bound to happen at some point. “

Still brimming and smiling, Dani twirled as she made her way toward the car and Hannah’s form waving in the distance. 

“Night,” Jamie offered weakly, sure it never reached the target who was humming and dancing her way across the field that acted as a parking lot. She leaned over the fence and folded her arms, waiting and watching. 

“And thank you for being my fox tonight,” Dani called, turning back again and bowing, exaggerated as Jamie had on the dance floor. 

Her laugh trailed off, wafting along in the breeze, dipping and winding its way between the branches and leaves and gone, evaporated into the night and among the clouds and the smoke they’d shared.


End file.
